


Dave's Dreams.

by valerian_valentine



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Decapitation, Decay, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Maggots, Murder, Necrophilia, Nightmares, Non-Consensual, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence, Violent Thoughts, Wet Dream, Worms, inappropriate use of decapitated heads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valerian_valentine/pseuds/valerian_valentine
Summary: Dave has a lot of dreams. Here are just a few.
Relationships: Dave Strider & Dirk Strider, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	Dave's Dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS BEFORE YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT READING THIS  
> i decided to do a lil somethin somethin for october and uhh... Yeah. Sorry for this y'all.

_ You watch him like a hawk, your small body shaking from head to toe. The sky is bright, blazing on the roof with unmerciful rays that beat down on you like radioactive fists. It’s hot and your palms are sweaty, dripping on the gravel that gratefully soaks up the liquid to cool off. It’s so hot. You feel like you’re melting. _

_ He’s sitting near the edge of the roof, cleaning his stupid fucking sword, ridding it of your blood, sweat and tears and treating it with more care than he’s ever shown you. It makes you jealous. He’s sweating too, and you watch as a single lone drop of sweat slowly drag its way down his bicep, tracing and following the natural line of his muscles. He’s so big. He’s so strong. His face is there and it’s human but you can’t see it. It’s misshapen, just a blur of his skin tone on what is supposed to be his face, like someone got a bad eraser and tried to get rid of their mistakes. The only thing you can truly see are his shades, the pointed tips reflecting light like it was nothing, shining it into the eyes of strangers just to be a dick. It’s like they have a presence of their own, mocking everyone that dares to exist around them. If it had its own consciousness, it would manipulate people with ease and no remorse, like a robot angry at the people who created it. It would look you in the eyes and tell you why you deserve this treatment, why you deserve to rot at the hands of your brother. _

_ Your head hurts and aches like someone trying to crush it with their bare hands, the sides feeling like a constant pressure was being applied but it didn’t fucking matter. Nothing mattered. There’s something rough in your hand. It’s a knife. Not a sword. Not a stupid fucking throwing star. It’s a knife, plain and simple. The handle absorbs your sweat gratefully, its presence sweet and cool like ice cream, tempting you to just.. Go through with it. He’s not paying attention. He’s so vulnerable. He doesn’t even know what the fuck is going on, he hasn’t even noticed you. He’s never noticed you unless he wanted something. You weren’t a human to him, you weren’t his little brother, you were a toy to use. A toy. He doesn’t even understand how much it hurts, he doesn’t understand how you envy the puppets along his shelves, on the floors, everywhere. They don’t have to deal with him like you do. They don’t bleed, their skin doesn’t tear like yours do, they don’t have soft and squishy insides. They are perfect the way they are, they don’t need to improve themselves. _

_ You understand. You understand how easy it is to turn someone into a toy to be used, a simple puppet to hurt and abuse. It’s so easy to just break someone, you could do it. You could hurt him right here and turn him into your own puppet, turn him into a thing for you to abuse and injure. An object to pummel into the ground and leave without feeling an ounce of remorse. _

_ “Bro?” You finally speak up, your muscles feeling like honey and slime. Your voice doesn’t exist yet it’s too loud. It’s too much yet it’s nothing. _

_ “What?” He didn’t say that. His mouth didn’t move. He doesn’t have a mouth, how did he say that? He didn’t. You never said anything. He doesn’t know you’re there. Why are you still there? _

_ “Why…?” You ask, staring at him. His face doesn’t exist. Every time you look at it, the information leaks out of your head, melting your brain slowly like a flame to cold wax. The information bounces off of your skull like blood on snow. You hate him. He doesn’t deserve to be remembered. You miss him. _

_ “You’re pathetic. You deserve the treatment, David. I hate you. I hate you and your existence, it hurts to look at you, to hear you. I hate you.” His disoriented voice says. He stood up at some point and looms over you like it’s nothing, looks down at you like you’re just a kid. You’re just a kid, you don’t deserve this treatment. You’ve tried, you have tried so fucking hard to be a good kid, you tried to warrant the abuse but it doesn’t make sense and Bro doesn’t deserve to have any sort of relief in his life. He doesn’t deserve to abuse you, to hit you, to try and make you better. He doesn’t deserve to see you get better. You’re so small, so tiny and fragile, you don’t deserve this. _

_ You don’t lunge, you don’t move like a snake striking its prey. It isn’t cool or amazing or epic. You don’t dare use his fighting tactics, not ever again. _

_ Your knife pushes through his muscle like a shovel through dirt, snapping and tearing the fat and muscle of his body in a disgusting way that satisfies some dark part of you. He deserves it. He deserves it, you say as you push your knife further until your knife can't go any deeper, until the hilt refuses to go inside of him. You can feel his blood vessels and connective tissue  _ **_rip_ ** _ , breaking and tearing under the sharp metal of your knife and you have never felt more delighted. You pull your blade out and stab him again, shuddering as you get the same feeling, the same stuttering motion from your blade. It doesn’t glide through like butter, it doesn’t go in smoothly, it snags and rips and tears through like a rabid animal through bramble. There is nothing clean or smooth about it and it fills you with satisfaction. You did that. You hurt him. He is mortal and you prove that by stabbing through his flesh over and over again, leaving gashes and marks all over his stomach. You are still so small, so undeserving of the treatment you got. You were just a child. You didn’t need to grow up so fast. This is his fault. _

_ You stab him again and again until the tearing stops, until his flesh is all just one mush of flesh and blood. There is no more satisfaction to be had and you are satiated, satisfied with what you’ve done. His torso is no longer a stable slab of skin, flesh, hair and muscles, it is now pulp, slush, mush. You did that. Chunks of the blended, diced flesh began to slough off in wads, plopping on the gravel like nothing. It reminds you of blended dog food and you laugh at the thought because Bro is nothing more than blended, rotten dog food now because you are better than him. You will always be better than him now. People love you, you are adored and he is cast aside like rotten flesh because he is. You hate him with your entire being. _

_ The longer you look, the more his slurry of skin begins to squirm, things moving just under the surface and you laugh more. Even his own dead flesh wants to get away from him. Thin, skinny worms squirm through the slurry, flies swarm around it, larvae dig into the slop in search of food. He’s rotten, inside and out now. Diseased. Tainted. Infected, contaminated. He deserves it. You hate him. _

_ You laugh yourself into hysterics, the world fading until you're just by yourself in the void of your mind, feeling satisfied and full. Justice has finally been served. You hate him. _

_ He didn’t deserve it. _

  
  


Dave woke up, slick from sweat and tears. He immediately sat up in an attempt to get away from his horrid dream and began to cry. Why? Why did he do it? Yes, Bro deserved it but did he? He was still his brother and despite everything he’s been through, he still loves Bro. He didn’t deserve such a horrible and violent death.

He gets out of bed, legs unsteady under the weight of his grief as they carry him to the bathroom. He washed invisible blood and gore off his hands, the harsh lights of the bathroom burning into his eyes much like the sun in his dreams. Why did he do it? Why were his thoughts so morbid, so determined to hurt others? Guilt crashes through him in waves, forcing him to face the reality of his thoughts and the consequences of such. Bro was just trying to help, he didn’t know, he didn’t realize what he was doing. He didn’t deserve that treatment, no matter how much he abused him.

It was impossible to go back to sleep. The sight of his bed hurt to look at, he couldn’t stand it. It disgusted him, reminded him of his own depravity. He spent the next two days fighting off sleep as much as he could, avoiding questions about the growing jumpiness and the bags under his eyes. He was a monster. He couldn’t let his friends know the horrors and terrors he had created, they would leave him in an instant.

  
  


_ You’re warm once again but it’s bearable this time. Comfortable. You’re in your apartment- Wait, no. A glance outside the window reveals miles and miles of ocean, waves crashing against the steel beams that barely hold up the concrete block of the apartment. You’re in Dirk’s old apartment. It’s warm and humid, the salty air affecting the tip of your nose in an odd way. It was weird but.. Comforting to be here. The warmth was welcoming, reminding you of the walks you went on with Dirk, exploring the world your friends created. The soft dirt under your shoes, the rustling trees, the bright sun and nice weather was all a comforting memory. _

_ You start walking around, fully aware of your dream state. You’ve always been a bit of a lucid dreamer, using it as an escape from the hellhole you were raised in. Your feet sink into the soft carpet, worn down a bit from years of wear and tear. You skillfully avoid taped down wires, random sewing needles that Dirk must have forgotten and metal parts that jut out threatening from the soft carpet. There’s the occasional slash in the wall or shard of metal that makes you worry but you don’t dwell on it very long, searching for your ecto-bro. He’ll be happy to see you, you’ve been kind of purposely avoiding him to prevent any sort of accident. Every day he looks more and more like your bro and you don’t dare mention it. It would kill him inside even when you know he’s noticed it and not to mention, you’re terrified of accidentally hurting him, worried your gorey dreams as a prophecy that was to be fulfilled. Despite knowing Dirk isn’t able to die permanently, you would quite like to avoid stabbing him until his abdomen is mush. _

_ You manage to find what you assume is his room and smile when you see your ecto-bro sitting in his bed, working on some sort of odd imitation of a smuppet. You raise your hand and open your mouth to greet him but instead of words spilling out of your mouth, you get blood and your stomach muscles flex, searing pain filling your lower half. When you look down, there’s a long slash right above your hip bones. The skin slowly pulls apart and your small intestine slowly plops out, hanging and swinging around your legs instead of staying in your body where it belongs. More of your small intestine starts unravelling and falling out on the soft carpet, soon followed by your large intestine. It… Hurts? It feels like it should hurt and you can feel your organs, feel the breeze on them, feel the carpet cradling your guts to keep them from bruising on the hard flooring underneath. You try to speak again, apologize to Dirk for getting blood everywhere but another wave of blood replaces your words, spilling from your lips like vomit. You shake as your intestines squirm and flex, forcing you to throw up more and more blood, your muscles preventing you from breathing as you gag. The red liquid seeps into your shirt and slowly trails down your body like honey, the dark red substance staining everything it comes into contact with like an infection. _

_ “Bro..?” Dirk's voice is so quiet, so innocent sounding. When you look up, he’s a child, standing in front of you with a terrified look on his face. Lil Cal is being cradled in his arms, the puppet staring into your soul while you pathetically cough up more blood in an attempt to console your little brother. _

_ Little brother? _

_ Who are you? _

_ You…. You should hold your guts. You can’t get them dirty. They don’t belong outside your body so you reach down and start slowly pulling them up, letting them tangle and get wrapped up together as you try to push them back in. Your suit is ruined now, huh? It’s going to be a bitch and a half to clean up. _

_ “Bro, what’s going on?” Dirk questions you, his voice cracking ever so slightly. He’s so young. His face is so chubby looking, the picture of childlike innocence while you stupidly try to stuff your organs back where they belong. You try to answer again, not learning your lesson from earlier and yet again, you puke up more blood. It’s so hard to breath and it stings when blood flows into your nose, dripping out of your nostrils then streaming out when you throw up again, cradling your organs to your ruined body. Everything hurts yet doesn’t. You should apologize for getting so messy in front of Dirk but you can’t speak, your esophagus closing around any words you try to say and squeezing out more thick pools of blood. You…. You need help, right? That’s what people need when they get like this. Help. You should find help. _

_ “He-” You cough up more blood, your vision starting to blacken and your head aching as you desperately try to breathe. You know this is a dream but the feeling of losing oxygen is not unfamiliar to you so your mind has plenty of examples to pull from, providing an upsettingly vivid feeling. Adrenaline and anxiety start to fill your veins that are quickly starting to dry up, all of your blood spilling from your mouth and coating your already slippery organs. Your feet and legs start feeling cold and hollow, the blood loss finally affecting you in a very unpleasant way. Fuck, this is just a huge mess. You really should just leave already and get yourself cleaned up, you’re making such a dick of yourself. _

_ “Help-” You manage to get the words out before a big wave of blood shoots out of your mouth, causing you to double over. There’s so much blood, you can’t breathe. It’s too much. You want to apologize, apologize to Dirk but his body is quickly fading from your vision and you can’t breathe and you finally give up, collapsing in your own pool of blood, your guts squishing comfortably under you.  _

_ Sorry, buddy. I’ll make it up to you. _

Dave woke up with a gasp, grateful to finally have air in his lungs. He lays there in bed, panting as he stares up at the ceiling, soft light shining through the window and casting beautiful shapes along the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths, disappointed in himself yet again. He really needed to figure out a way to stop having dreams that force him to hold his breath because while the first breath after a while of not having any is extremely pleasurable, it was starting to get annoying. Maybe he needs to work on his lucid dreaming some more. He slowly sits up and checks his stomach, gently touching the scarred skin around his hip bones. A few scars here and there but no sign of gut loss but his almost flat stomach concerns him, convinces some small, idiotic part of his brain that he lost some of his intestines in his dream. Of course, that didn’t happen because that’s impossible but the worry doesn’t go away.

He rolled out of bed, knowing he won’t be able to get back to sleep and went to the bathroom to get himself ready for the rest of the day. He’d need to get a lot of friend check ups in today to keep everyone from worrying about him for the next few days. He was not looking forward to this but he needed to, otherwise they’d try to help which is the last thing he needed. He loved his friends to death but their help was… Not helpful. He shook his head, not wanting to think about the last time they tried to help. He looked at himself in the smudged mirror, huffing out a laugh when he saw his appearance. He had a lot of work to do if he wanted to make himself presentable.

  
  


_ Yet again, you’re warm but luckily, it’s comfortable again. You aren’t in Dirks apartment, you aren’t anywhere.. You think. You aren’t sure where you are but it’s kinda familiar. The ceiling looks familiar. Wait, no. You’re standing up. Why are you looking at the ceiling? _

_ A warm hand touches your neck, getting your attention with ease. Your mind moves like molasses as you slowly look down at whoever is in front of you, feeling your body heat increase when you see Karkat. He’s beautiful. The low lighting casts perfect shadows along his body, complimenting his muscles and figure. You adore him and heat pools in your stomach when he slowly begins to get on his knees in front of you, his hands like cool stones along your body, smoothly trailing down your shirt until they settle on your small hips. His hands are so big and comforting. _

_ You let out a sigh of relief as he slowly starts to take off your boxers, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles along your thighs as one of his hands makes its way to your cock, slowly taking it in his hand. He’s so beautiful, he’s so perfect and you adore him. You bite your lip as you watch him kiss the tip of your cock, staring up at you with his gorgeous brown eyes. His features start to blur and seep out of your brain as he starts slowly stroking you, the pleasure a slow, pleasant hum buzzing through your body. You’re safe. The cycle has ended, no more freaky fucking dreams for you. Just happy dreams with Karkat and his wonderful fucking bod. You start to harden in his hands, which he seems very pleased by, and watch as he starts to suck the tip, shuddering when you feel his tongue swirl around it. He feels so good, so real and you haven’t gotten off in so  _ **_long_ ** _. It’s perfect and your cock throbs as he starts taking more in, taking it perfectly slow. _

_ You tilt your head back, relaxing as you let him blow you. The world blurs and blends together, making the touches so much more obvious and it’s so fucking perfect, it feels like heaven on your cock. You missed him so much. You’ve been avoiding him, terrified you might slip and tell him your dreams or injure him but you don’t have to worry about that now, you only have to worry about Karkat's pleasure. God, when you wake up, you’re going to give him the best nook eating of his life then make him whatever the fuck he wants for dinner, lunch and breakfast then spend the entire day absolutely wrecking him. You love him so fucking much. _

_ You moan quietly as Karkat slowly envelops your now aching cock in his mouth, giving you just the right amount of pressure and heat and suction because he's the absolute bestest boyfriend in the entire fucking universe but the title is quickly revoked from him when he stops moving, just keeping your cock in his mouth with no suction or anything. You look down and understand what he wants in an instant. He wants you to fuck his mouth and the idea makes your cock twitch, your voice forcing a groan out from your clenched teeth. You gently grab the sides of his head and rock into his mouth slowly, letting your head drift back as you tenderly fuck his mouth, the wet noises of his mouth sending shocks down your spine. It feels amazing, the heat enveloping you perfectly, like his mouth was made for your cock. You don’t have to worry about his blunt fangs, it’s just a dream and even though you’d never tell Karkat, you kind of enjoy the occasional scrape of his teeth on your sensitive cock. It hurts just enough to make your legs shake and your mind to beg for more. Fuck, you love him. You brush against the entrance of his throat, making him produce more and more hot saliva and the glide is so fucking much, it feels so fucking good and hot and slick. Like, really hot. It feels like your cock is dissolving in his mouth like candy, his tongue eagerly slurping up the flavor and drinking it down with a desperation that leaves you shaking. Your orgasm builds up quickly, the heat and the wetness of Karkat's mouth feeling like heaven on your cock after so long without touching it, his beautiful noises filling the room like heavenly music. You’re so desperate to cum, you want so desperately to just cum down his throat or on his face then thank him, worship him like he’s a god and forget about the nightmares that plagued your mind for much too long. You look down to see his face when you cum, to see his beautiful mouth wrapped around your cock but you stop in your tracks, vision sharpening nauseatingly when you see him. _

_ His body is gone. There’s blood coating your dick like honey, sticking and dripping off like nothing, his mouth completely limp. He has blood caked in his hair and you feel yourself gag when Karkat’s head squelches in your hands. His eyes are rolled back, only showing the whites of his delicate eyes. You try to pull away, try to get your cock out of his mouth but the drag sends spikes of filthy pleasure through you that leaves you weak in the knees and blurs your vision, your hands practically glued to his head and preventing you from letting go. It feels so good, it feels so good and you begin to sob as you thrust into his mouth, nearly screaming when it squishes. You can’t look away as you fuck Karkats lifeless head, the whites of his eyes staring and boring into your soul, exposing it for the world, showing everyone and their moms your sins. You cry and sob, hot tears streaming down your face and falling off, hitting his cheeks which just makes you cry more. Blood is all over your thighs, drying grossly and flaking off while more and more waves move to replace the drying blood. Flies start to surround you, desperate for a taste of Karkat's bright candy red blood and you almost envy them, wishing you could taste Karkat's blood with them. It almost physically hurts you to keep fucking his head but you _

_ Can’t _

_ Stop _

_ Your cock aches and pulses in his mouth, begging to release into it’s favorite person. You gasp and shudder as you feel the tip of your cock suddenly grow cold, exposed to the cold air. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. It fucking went through his esophagus and you know it’s peaking out from what's left of his neck, squirming in pleasure. Squirming? _

_You gag as a horrible smell begins to fill your lungs, Karkat's head once again gaining your attention with its growing stages of decay. His eyes are gone, the sockets hollow and you get the faint urge to finger fuck them, the urge to cum inside what's left of his brain but you leave it for another time. Your cock squirms and writhes in what's left of Karkat’s esophagus and mouth, the flesh beginning to tenderize and skin starts to slough off as you build up to your orgasm, sobs wrecking through your body. He’s fucking horrifying but you’re still fucking his face and you_ ** _like it._** _You enjoy it, you adore the way you can feel maggots squirm around your cock, you love the way you can feel flies buzz around the tip and how their wings tickle you every time they land on you. When you cum, you’re weeping and gagging, screaming and sobbing into the void of your dreams. You loved it. You loved it._

Dave woke up and didn’t even take time to assess his mental state, heading straight to the bathroom and landed roughly on his knees, bruising them before he shoved two fingers down his throat and forced himself to throw up into the toilet, trembling like a leaf in the wind, wiggling and pressing his fingers down on his tired gag reflex until he’s just throwing up stomach acid and his knuckles are bright red from the scrape of your teeth. His bones ache as he slowly cleans himself up, tears streaming down his face nonstop through the entire process. He doesn’t even deserve the release of purging, he doesn’t deserve to live and he doesn’t think he can live with himself. This isn’t his first nightmarish wet dream and it won't be his last but it's his first one starring Karkat, his amazing and perfect boyfriend. How will he ever face him? How will he apologize, how will he fucking explain that he took his decapitated head and fucked it despite the worms and maggots crawling all over it? How will he explain that he came just from Karkat’s decaying head and  _ he enjoyed it?  _

He spends the rest of his night sobbing in his bathroom, hugging himself despite not deserving the comfort. There is no satisfying ending, no comfort, just him alone in his bathroom. Crying.

**Author's Note:**

> if y'all could leave feedback, constructive criticism, uh, your favorite color and fav animals, that'd be p cool  
> i like fruit bats and the color pink


End file.
